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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062604">Nixxie's DSMP Big Bang Bootcamp Ficlets</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NixxieOfTheGays/pseuds/NixxieOfTheGays'>NixxieOfTheGays</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(mentioned) - Freeform, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Animal Death, Baking, Cheating, Deity Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Dream beating Tommy is also mentioned, Drug Use, Emetophobia, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Nightmares, Not RPF, Past Drug Addiction, Pogtopia on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Rain, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Self-Harm, Sort Of, Stress Baking, Suicidal Thoughts, Tango, Therapy, Underage Drinking, every chapter will have a different rating, he's given deity-like powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:34:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,381</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NixxieOfTheGays/pseuds/NixxieOfTheGays</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>These are a series of ficlets written for the DSMP Big Bang Bootcamp. Every Monday those doing the Big Bang get three prompts to write ficlets or draw art about. This is what I wrote.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(mentioned) - Relationship, Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs, Cara | CaptainPuffy &amp; TommyInnit, Clay | Dream &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Floris | Fundy &amp; Wilbur Soot, Floris | Fundy &amp; Wilbur Soot &amp; Phil Watson, Jack Manifold &amp; TommyInnit, Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Niki | Nihachu &amp; Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit &amp; Ranboo, Tommyinnit &amp; Tubbo, Tubbo &amp; Ranboo, Wilbur Soot &amp; Phil Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>DSMP Big Bang Bootcamp</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Week 1, Prompt 1: "Bread" - Niki, Season 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Week 1, Prompt 1: "Bread"<br/>---<br/>Rating: G<br/>Fic Type: Angst, Semi-Canon Compliant (it's a rough retelling of a scene from season 1)<br/>Characters: Niki Nihachu and Wilbur Soot<br/>Setting: Season 1, Manberg/Pogtopia Era, Niki's Bakery in Manberg.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Niki Nichachu inhales deeply as she takes the bread from her bakery’s furnace with a peel, the fresh, intoxicating smell making her feel lightheaded with hunger. She sighs knowing that this loaf is not to eat. She will have to resort to the cans of foul smelling mush in the back of her pantry tonight. Another night spent curled up in her bed missing her best friend and trying her best to ignore the pangs in her stomach. </p><p>No, this bread is not for her. It’s for the bakery. The bakery that she loves with all her heart and soul. The bakery that would not be open tomorrow if not for the loaf before her. She deposits it onto a rack to cool, eyeing the sign at the bakery’s entrance with malice. </p><p>
  <b>“TAXES HAVE BEEN COLLECTED. THANK YOU FOR YOUR CITIZENSHIP.”</b>
</p><p>The sign had appeared that morning and it took all she had to simply walk past it. After the blatant robbery, she used the remaining wheat to bake the loaf before her. Baking has always filled Niki with a sort of calm, her mind drifting in time to her hands kneading the dough, back and forth like the tide. It was that morning, before she began to bake, that her communicator rang. Seconds after seeing the sign for the first time.</p><p>
  <i>WilburSoot is calling…</i>
</p><p>Her heart had jumped as she desperately accepted the call. She couldn’t help the desperation in her voice, “Wil, where are you? I am so scared right now!”</p><p>That is how she learned of Pogtopia. Her hopes had risen at the prospect of a place free from Schlatt, and plummeted back down again when Wilbur told her he would not bring her with him.</p><p>“Look, it’s- I can’t- I- we- it- we’re in too much of a hot position right now to take in everyone and every person we need into our new cave, so you’re going to have to hold out in Manberg for a bit longer, okay?”</p><p>“Of course…” she had answered in a voice small and defeated. She wanted to yell at him. To scream that she isn’t just anyone. To let him hear all that Schlatt has done since he’s been gone. But she knows that wouldn’t be fair. The man is exiled, after all, “Take care.”</p><p>Now she’s here. No one to turn to. No one she can trust. She feels a bitterness rising up inside her, something she doesn’t quite recognize. At the thought of the man who she’d follow to the end of the Earth she picks up the magma-hot bread and chucks it into the coals, the fire blowing out and around her. Then she realizes what she just did and rolls it out with the poker. She knows instantly that she is too late and not much of it can be salvaged.</p><p>“At least I have an excuse to eat it now.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Week 1, Prompt 2: "Hugging" - Clingy Duo, Season 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Week 1, Prompt 2: "Hugging"<br/>---<br/>Rating: T<br/>Fic Type: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant<br/>Characters: TommyInnit &amp; Tubbo, Mentioned Tubbo/Ranboo<br/>Setting: Season 3, A week after canon (today is 3/16/21), Tubbo and Ranboo's Mansion in Snowchester.<br/>Warnings: Self-Harm is mentioned and lightly practiced in this fic! Suicide and Abuse are also mentioned. Blood is mentioned but not graphically described.<br/></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy stifles a yawn, his unfocused eyes struggling to stay fixated on the board in front of him. The game plan. The plan. The plan to kill Dream. The plan to cut his ugly fucking head off, to leave the mask that once haunted him hung up in Eret’s museum or Tubbo’s vault or literally anywhere but where Tommy could see. Where he could be reminded of the way it smiled as his blood splattered against it, painting it a grisly shade. Or the way it peered down at him, emotionless, when he was on his knees in Logstedshire, begging for the mercy of the wearer: his “friend”.</p><p>He hears a wail and for a second he thinks it might be him before he realizes that it’s coming from a couple rooms over. It’s a baby crying. That’s right. His best friend’s baby. He remembers where he is. It’s been a couple weeks since he’s escaped from that obsidian hell pit, mostly spent in the Underscore Family’s freshly built War Room in their huge mansion, plotting his abuser’s murder. And in therapy, of course, but he’s been thinking of ditching it since Puffy is so insistent that he give up his plan. She thinks it’s for vengeance or justice, but it’s not. It’s for the safety of everyone, including her.</p><p>
  <i>“But, Tommy... why does it have to be you?”</i>
</p><p>The toddler has stopped crying, likely consoled by one of his fathers. It’s stupid, but sometimes Tommy is jealous of the kid. Tubbo has never talked to <i>him</i> like that before, not with that tone of voice. It’s so gentle and sweet like Niki’s bread, somehow containing all the love in the world. One time Tommy caught him tucking Michael in, and couldn’t help but think “I wish he would hold me like that.”</p><p>Tommy is not a baby. He’s barely a child. He doesn’t want to be Michael, that’s absurd. He doesn’t want to be Ranboo either. He could never imagine loving Tubbo that way, in the way Tommy loves girls. He doesn’t want to be either of them. So why does he feel like this?</p><p>There’s a knock at the door.</p><p>“Tommy? You awake?” a sleep-deprived voice calls.</p><p>“Tubzo!” he scrambles up, cursing as his spine cracks. The cold of the doorknob feels like a jolt to his system. Every sensation is so much more now. It’s a lot to get used to.</p><p>“Hey, big man, I heard some sniffles. Are you doing alright?”</p><p>It’s only then that he feels the wetness coating his cheeks. Oh.</p><p>“Yeahh, I’m… yeahh,” he scratches his head in embarrassment.</p><p>“You don’t have to talk about it. I know you hate that,” Tubbo reassures him, almost in a whisper.</p><p>Tommy rubs his arms, feeling a breeze flow in from the hallway. A window must be open somewhere. It reminds him of exile, when he was always cold. Excect for the nether, of course. Staring into that lava was the only thing that made him feel something, made him feel warm. <s>God, how he had wanted to let it hug him.</s></p><p>“Thank you, Tubbo.”</p><p>“Do you need anything?” Tubbo looks at him expectantly, eager to do anything to help ease his friend’s pain. Tommy knows what he wants, but he doesn’t know if he can ask for it.</p><p>“Can you come in here?” he asks at last, his chipped nails half-mindedly scratching the scars of his left forearm under his long-sleeved shirt. He’d been almost a month clean when he entered the prison. Now he had to start over. Thanks, Dream.</p><p>“Sure! I can stay with you as long as you want, it’s not like I’m getting any sleep. I was awake even before Michael got fussy. Nightmares,” he sits next to Tommy on the bed. Tommy’s free hand itches to grab his.</p><p>“Is Ranboo up, too?”</p><p>“Naw, I couldn’t let him lose sleep over me. He needs the rest, he’s been so stressed lately. He was planning on telling Technoblade about us when he moved out, but…” Tubbo shook his head, “Whelp, he’ll find out sooner or later anyways. Hell, Phil knows, and they’re best friends.”</p><p>“Best friends don’t always tell each other everything,” Tommy reminds him. He scratches his forearm harder. He winces slightly at the heightened sensation, hoping Tubbo doesn’t notice.</p><p>Tubbo sighs, “That’s true. That’s true…” Tubbo places a hand lightly on Tommy’s arm and he freezes. He takes Tommy’s hand from his sleeve and moves it into his own lap, massaging his tense palm open. It isn’t a pretty hand. There’s dried blood caked under his fingernails and age old scars litter the surface. Tubbo seems to catch himself, looking up into Tommy’s eyes, “Is this okay? You seemed tense, and you used to like when I did this in Pogtopia.”</p><p>“Do whatever you want to do, mate,” he tries and fails to hide how happy he feels to be touched without bleeding.</p><p>Tubbo smiles, “I missed this. I missed spending time with you.”</p><p>Tommy scoffs, “Don’t you have a husband to do this with?”</p><p>“You know this is different, Tommy,” he sounds dejected when he says what he feels like he’s said a hundred times in the past week, “Speaking of which, I want you to be a little nicer to him. <i>Please.</i></p><p>He understands why you feel this way and what you’re going through, and so do I. But please, Tommy.”</p><p>“I can’t help how I feel, Tubbo, but I’ll try. I… don’t entirely <i>not</i> care about him. He helped me away from-” <s> from the edge</s> “from <i>loneliness</i> back in exile. His letters-” <s>were what kept me alive at times</s> “were very important to me. Fuck, now I feel bad about burning his stupid flower.”</p><p>This makes Tubbo laugh, his head falling onto Tommy’s shoulder, relieved.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>“Tubbo?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Hold me.”</p><p><i>Fuck.</i> Did he really just say that!?</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>And then he was in Tubbo’s arms at last. Enveloped in the hug of his best friend, it was like he was finally home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Week 2, Prompt 1: "Light" - Dream, Season 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Week 2, Prompt 1: "Light"<br/>---<br/>Rating: G<br/>Characters: Dream &amp; DreamXD, Dream &amp; Tommy, Dream &amp; Drista<br/>Setting: Season 1<br/>Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure Drista is not canon but I wanted to play around with the idea. I acknowledge that the real Drista did not consent to being written as if a fictional character, for she was not roleplaying during her time visiting the server. It's why I felt a little hesitant writing about it. The "Drista" written about in this fic is entirely fanon and only shares vague similarities with the real Drista. Also, Dream's real name is mentioned once or twice in this fic to show before and after be became DreamXD's chosen one.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clay doesn’t know how old he was when he was made Admin by DreamXD, only that he was quite young at the time. He hadn’t known George then, only Sapnap. Clay doesn’t know why he, out of all people, was chosen by the deity. </p><p>Maybe it was because of his speedrunning prowess, which he had been gaining quite a bit of attention for. Maybe it was because he was born with something, an innate light inside his soul that made him somehow worthy of this power. Or maybe we was just chosen at random to bear the burden of the smiling mask and adopt the name of his patron.</p><p>The mask was heavy when Dream first held it in his hands, but now it feels like a second skin, the surprisingly sturdy porcelain, nothing but an extension of his flesh. He doesn’t remember the last time he has taken it off. It is as much “Dream” as the rest of his body is.</p><p>It was an unusually warm April day when Dream finally made what he had always wanted but never had: a home. The SMP was his passion project, a beautiful eutopia to share with his closest friends. </p><p>That was until <i>he</i> joined, of course. The loud-mouthed British boy with braces and shaggy blond hair who showed up at spawn on Independence Day (how ironic is that?) in that damned red and white shirt. If someone had told Dream that <i>this boy</i> would be the one to bring him to his knees back in April he would have laughed in their face.</p><p>Tommy, he soon learned the boy was called, raised chaos and mayhem wherever he went, cursing out his friends and claiming every building to be his property. There wasn’t a moment he wasn’t shouting.  He was, in nature, the antithesis of DreamXD. And he needed to be stopped.</p><p>It wasn’t particularly hard for Dream to use his admin powers and simply flick Tommy away like a bug. The problem was that he always came back. Dream soon lost track of the amount of times the boy was banished, his head spinning with exhaustion as Tommy simply laughed and jeered. It got Dream angry. Really angry. And Dream did not like feeling angry.</p><p>Dream closed in on the teenage nuisance, grinning as Tommy cowered away from his wolfish gait. Slash Kill is arguably the most powerful command in an admin’s arsenal, taking an entire canon life in the blink of an eye. All Dream needed to do was type it three times in succession.</p><p>He readied his glowing hand…</p><p>
  <b>You do not have permission to use this command.</b>
</p><p>What? He tried again.</p><p>
  <b>
    <i>You do not have permission to use this command.</i>
  </b>
</p><p>Dream gawked at the message before him.</p><p>“What’s the matter?” Tommy spat with a cocky smirk, “Are you <i>scared</i> of me, big ma- AH!”</p><p>In one punch he was passed out on the grass with little more than a yelp. Dream dropped to his knees and frantically began to pray.</p><p><b>“You called, my child?”</b> boomed a disembodied voice.</p><p>“Oh, Great Protector! There seems to be a, uh, little problem here...”</p><p>
  <b>”Whatever is the matter?”</b>
</p><p>“You see, my admin powers don’t exactly seem to be… working.”</p><p>
  <b>“That’s certainly odd. You have all the proper rites. Let’s see...”</b>
</p><p>Dream felt a sudden tingle run through him, head to toe. He closed his eyes tight to escape the heat of the glow he was enveloped in, threatening to melt him from the inside out. For the first time in a long time, Dream feared for his life.</p><p>Then it was over, almost as quickly as it began.</p><p>
  <b>”Ah… I see... “</b>
</p><p>“Wh-”</p><p>
  <b>”There’s nothing I can do. It seems that my gift has separated from you.”</b>
</p><p>“What!?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>”It felt that you have strayed from my image and now refuses to cooperate.”</b>
</p><p>“What the fuck does that mean!?”</p><p>Dream was met with nothing but silence.</p><p>“Dream XD!?”</p><p>No response.</p><p>“What the actual fuck does that mean!?”</p><p>It isn’t until a few months later, after he has learned to live with the fact that Tommy is here to stay, that he gets his answer. She came to him in a dream, the only place that they could possibly communicate. They’re in the void, floating and endless and eternal. Dream wondered if this is how DreamXD feels.</p><p>The girl is young, perhaps even younger than Tommy. Her hair is blonde and mid-length, her face a sky of freckles. Her eyes green as emeralds. Dream realized with a jolt that she looks like him.</p><p>“Who are you?”</p><p>
  <b>”The name’s Drista, but you can just call me your little sister.”</b>
</p><p>Her voice booms like XD’s.</p><p>“I don’t have a sister. I don’t have a family.”</p><p>
  <b>”I thought your little friends were your family.</b>
</p><p>“Who are you, really?”</p><p>Drista sighs.</p><p>
  <b>”I’m the Admin.”</b>
</p><p>“No, I’m the Admin!”</p><p>
  <b>”Are you sure?”</b>
</p><p>Embarrassingly, Dream found he could not answer her.</p><p>
  <b>”Come on, Green Boy. Who are you fooling here with your tough guy act? We both know that deep down inside you’re as powerless as a bug.”</b>
</p><p>“Stop it.” he warned.</p><p>
  <b>”Oh, Clay. I think we have a common goal here. You want your power back. I have your power. Just let me drive this car for a little bit and I can take care of your little… Tommy problem.”</b>
</p><p>His eyes widened when he realized what she meant.</p><p>“What’s in it for you?”</p><p>
  <b>”I want to breathe. I want to feel.”</b>
</p><p>“And when you take over, will I… be in here?”</p><p>
  <b>”Not exactly. You will be able to see everything as normal, but not hear and not move. You will not feel, just as I haven’t in all my time locked away in your mind.”</b>
</p><p>“I don’t trust you.”</p><p>Drista guffawed.</p><p>
  <b>“You don’t? Or do you just pale at the idea of not being in charge?”</b>
</p><p>“It’s <i>my</i> body.”</p><p>
  <b>“It’s <i>my</i>powers.”</b>
</p><p>Dream quieted at that.</p><p>
  <b>”So… Do we have a deal?</b>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Week 4, Prompt 2: "Acting" - Allium Duo, Season 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Week 4, Prompt 2: "Acting"<br/>---<br/>Rating: T<br/>Fic Type: Angst, Canon Compliant (retelling of a recent scene from season 3 and a flashback retelling of a scene from season 2. in this fic Tommy has already started therapy with Puffy)<br/>Characters: Tommy, Ranboo, Sapnap (flashback), Dream (flashback)<br/>Setting: Season 3, during the stream "Tommy Visits Dream's Bunker"</p><p>Warnings: This ficlet talks about violence, abuse, depression, and suicidal thoughts.</p><p>Notes: I think Tommy's moment staring into the lava that stream happens after the boat ride, but whatever. Also, I didn't do last week's prompts because I was in Florida lol.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>”How do you know when it’s too much?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Tommy’s hand quivered on the axe’s handle. He chopped down the crafting table before tossing it aside, slipping his bag off his shoulder to retrieve the torches inside. His face darkened as he lit them, one by one, and placed them around the vicinity of his camp.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He heard a low, breathy laugh, dripping with disbelief. There was a long, dragged out pause. Sapnap froze awkwardly for a moment before continuing his conversation with Dream.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“No, it’s definitely faster if you Nether travel-”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“No, no. No one answered. How do you know if you… when it’s too much?” he felt desperate now. He saw Dream coming towards him, his breath catching in his throat. But of course, he only passed by as if Tommy wasn’t there at all.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Tommy didn’t even turn back to look at the man as he let out one small word.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Oh.”</i>
</p><p>This is the moment that permeates his mind as the sea spray mists his face on the long boat ride back to the Greater SMP from Dream’s Vault. Ranboo sits in a boat not far behind him, Friend in tow. This day was truly awful.</p><p>Henry’s second death had been a strident crash, shocking him out of whatever had made him feel like he could be whole again. Like the universe didn’t hate him.</p><p>And he was doing so well. He really was.</p><p>Sam Nook had been a robot, sure, but he <i>cared</i>. He <i>helped</i>. Programmed with love by Sam, the only person who had offered him solace from the beginning. Tommy had Tubbo, Sam, and his shiny new hotel. All that was left was to get closure.</p><p>So he went to see Dream one last time…</p><p>And now he can’t even look Sam in the eye.</p><p>Everything about Tommy’s body feels gross. The resurrection process has restored him good as new, save for a few white strands in his hair, but inside he just feels wrong.</p><p>When he closes his eyes he can still feel Dream touching him.</p><p>His hand around his neck, forcing him still as he raises his fist.</p><p>Punching.</p><p>Over and over.</p><p>Pushing him down by his shoulder on the grass outside his tent to properly whack his face with the blunt end of his netherite axe when he so much as hesitated to drop his items in the hole like a good little toy.</p><p>Bruising his wrists as he held him and told him that <i>nobody cares.</i></p><p>
  <i>”It’s only me. You will only ever have me.”</i>
</p><p>He wishes Dream’s gloves covered his fingertips too.</p><p>Then he wouldn’t have to think about how they had caressed his face when he said that. How he had leaned into the touch in return.</p><p>Tommy thinks he must have finally figured it out, when Dream had brought him back.</p><p>
  <i>”This is so evil. This is- This isn’t like before…”</i>
</p><p>He said that, didn’t he?</p><p><i>”You put me through torture. Through</i> pain <i>to prove a point, Dream!”</i></p><p>That’s what his death was, for sure.</p><p>But that’s what exile was too, wasn’t it?</p><p>
  <i>”He kidnapped you-”</i>
</p><p><i>“No,” Tommy laughed, high-pitched and awkward, “No, that- that wasn’t a</i> kidnapping, <i>Puffy. That was… That was exile.”</i></p><p>
  <i>“Tommy, what Dream did to you was never a part of exile. He abducted you, took you to a secondary location, and kept you captive there for weeks. Let’s not sugarcoat this-”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You’re making it sound all scary, it wasn’t…”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“It was scary, Tommy.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“But people knew about it, it wasn’t like… It wasn’t like that, people knew.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Did they really? All of it? Did they know you couldn’t leave? Did they know he was hurting you?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Yeah, actually! Some of them even fucking participated! I couldn’t… No, it was exile.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Tommy, I think it’s very important for your growth here in therapy if you’re honest with yourself.”</i>
</p><p>He’s working through it now. Or at least he was. He hasn’t touched the prison stuff with her, yet. He isn’t quite sure he’s ready.</p><p>They made progress. Slow, sure progress.</p><p>But that was before Henry’s legs broke under his own weight and the light fizzled out from behind his dewey eyes again and Tommy’s last hope… his last chance at normalcy, at happiness… died with him.</p><p>He could act.</p><p>He could act like everything was fine and that he didn’t just have a massive fucking relapse. That he didn’t stare into that lava, and for a second, wanted to jump again. That the only thing that pulled him back was that cursed reminder that death isn’t an escape anymore. It’s worse than living. Tommy isn’t going to heaven. Henry isn’t going to heaven. There is no fucking heaven, only Wilbur with his solitaire and Schlatt with his drugs. </p><p>He could act like he doesn’t want to stop existing so badly he could sell his soul for it.</p><p>He’s done it before, he could do it again.</p><p>But Tommy is just so tired of acting.</p><p>“You know when people ask you, Ranboo, ‘Say if it’s too much’?”</p><p>Ranboo nods thoughtfully, “Mhm.”</p><p>“When it gets too much?”</p><p>“Yeah. Yeah.”</p><p>“It’s too much, Ranboo.”</p><p>
  <i>It’s too much.</i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Week 5, Prompt 2: "Dreaming" - Tommy, Season 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Week 5, Prompt 2: "Dreaming"<br/>---<br/>Rating: T<br/>Fic Type: Dark Angst, Canon Compliant (in this fic Tommy has already started therapy with Puffy)<br/>Characters: Tommy, Dream (in a dream), Captain Puffy (not physically)<br/>Setting: Tommy's Dirt House, Season 3, any time after Henry's death<br/>Warnings: BIG TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF-HARM!!! Specifically cutting. The act is not described in detail, it's only mentioned that Tommy holds a blade and is bleeding. Nothing else is specified. Violence is also described at one point in this ficlet.</p><p>Notes: I'm writing this at midnight lol. If this sounds clunky it's because I'm sleep deprived. I had the same realization Tommy does in this ficlet last week and yes: the implications are horrifying. Happy reading! :)))</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It takes Tommy a moment to remember how he got here.</p><p>He’s sitting on the floor of his dirt hut, his back against his bed. It’s the middle of the night and the only sounds that can be heard from outside are the soft chirping of crickets. It smells of fresh soil and petrichor. He’s a little bit cold, his blanket thrown haphazardly somewhere to his right. His eyelids are heavy, his breathing is hard, and his face is wet with tears.</p><p>Oh, and he’s bleeding.</p><p>Tommy doesn’t even wanna look at his left forearm, he knows what awaits. His eyes go instead to the messy blade in his right hand. That hand shakes badly as he chucks the sharp thing away.</p><p>Why didn’t he call for Puffy? He was supposed to call for Puffy when he feels the need to…</p><p>Why didn’t he call for Tubbo?</p><p>Tommy hates it when his mind blips like this. He blames times like these on Dream. He blames most things on Dream.</p><p>
  <i>“As you should, Tommy. None of this is your fault,” Puffy whispered in his hair as she held him.</i>
</p><p>Tommy’s “mind farts” aren’t like Ranboo’s memory problems. They only happen when he’s particularly overwhelmed and only last anywhere between two and ten minutes. Then everything rushes back and he’s having a panic attack again. Puffy isn’t sure whether they’re caused by trauma or by his resurrection. Tommy doesn’t care at this point.</p><p>It can’t be more than four minutes when he remembers, this time.</p><p>
  <i>The dream.</i>
</p><p>This particular nightmare on this particular night didn’t start out much different than his others. His mind couldn’t decide whether to put him in the box or on the beach, so he was surrounded by obsidian and covered in sand.</p><p>And of course <i>he</i> was there.</p><p>How could he not be?</p><p>He was leaning in, uncomfortably close, hands tangled possessively in his unwashed blond hair. When he mumbled, sing-song in his ear, Tommy could almost taste the potatoes and sick.</p><p>
  <i>”Little birdie told me you’re planning to kill me. Is that true, Tommy?”</i>
</p><p>Tommy hated that he felt almost guilty. He quickly caught himself, puffing out his chest and scoffing.</p><p>
  <i>”Wouldn’t you like to know.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Actually, I would. Tell me, Tommy. Tell me everything. How do you plan to do it?”</i>
</p><p>Tommy shook his head in disbelief.</p><p>
  <i>“Why would I tell you?</i>
</p><p>Dream’s laugh left shivers crawling up every bit of him. The grip on his hair tightened painfully.</p><p><i>”Tommy… Tommy…  Come on, Tommy…”</i> Dream whispered, impossibly closer. Tommy hated how he said his name, slow and deliberate, <i>“I know you want to.</i> Please, <i>Tommy, I’m</i> begging!” Tommy vaguely thought that this was something he’d never say. <i>"Tell me how you wanna storm into this cell all high and mighty and stick that sword into my decaying heart. How you wanna cut off my head and pluck out my eyes and hit me again, and again, and again, and again, and ag-”</i></p><p>Tommy pushed him hard, his breathing beginning to spike.</p><p>
  <i>“O-Okay! Yeah, I’m gonna kill you, Dream, and you’re gonna stay that way, you sick fuck!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“And then what?</i>
</p><p>The question made Tommy pause a moment.</p><p>
  <i>"And then what’s dead stays dead. And then no one will ever have to feel how I felt. And then, not just me, but everyone on this damn server will be able to sleep knowing you can never hurt anyone ever again!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"And then what?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i> "And then- I don’t know, man! Everyone will live out the rest of their days safe and happy! Puffy will take care of the egg thingy and get the Badlands guys back to normal, Tubbo will hopefully divorce Ranboo and go back to being my best friend again, and I’ll finally get to run my hotel.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"And what happens after you live out the rest of your days, Tommy?”</i>
</p><p>An icy feeling rolled down Tommy’s spine. </p><p>No…</p><p>No.</p><p><i>"Who’s going to be waiting for you, Tommy?”</i> Dream continued, and even behind the mask Tommy could tell the way his face lit up with glee, “<i>Who’s going to be waiting for you?”</i></p><p>Tommy couldn’t feel his feet.</p><p>His legs.</p><p>His stomach.</p><p>His-</p><p>Oh.</p><p>So, that’s how he ended up here.</p><p>He can feel himself slipping as he picks up his communicator.</p><p>
  <b>TommyInnit: pusfy?<br/>
CaptainPuffy: what’s up, tommy?<br/>
TommyInnit: im srry<br/>
CaptainPuffy: sorry for what? are you okay?<br/>
TommyInnit: help<br/>
CaptainPuffy: On my way.</b>
</p><p>His head thunks against the bed as another round of fresh tears coat his cheeks.</p><p>He stays that way until Puffy arrives, but even after, the truth doesn’t leave.</p><p>He can’t un-dream it.</p><p>
  <i>He’s right.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>I will never be free.</i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Week 6, Prompt 1: "Space " - Karlity, Season 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Week 6, Prompt 1: "Space"<br/>---<br/>Rating: M (for implied sex and drug use)<br/>Fic Type: Semi-Serious Crack, Canon Compliant (this is a retelling of a scene from season 1, the first few paragraphs mentioning Schlatt are made up by me because I can't find the full VOD)<br/>Characters: Karl Jacobs/Quackity, Sapnap/Karl Jacobs (mentioned), Wilbur Soot/Quackity (mentioned)<br/>Setting: The Prime Path and Quackity's House, Season 1, about November 12th<br/>Warnings: Cheating, throwing up, mentioned past addiction, drug use (particularly heroin, not explicit, needle mention. The only explicit thing is them being high. I guess this counts as "shipping", but that's not really what this fic is about, it's just a retelling of a scene from a lost Karl Jacob's VOD. It's also implied that Schlatt had been too rough with Quackity sexually in the past in one sentence.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Notes:  I found this clip* while surfing YouTube and unfortunately, the VOD is lost to time (curse you, cc!Karl, for not having a VOD’s channel!). The clip starts at the end of Karl and Q’s supposed conversation about Q’s relationship luck and Karl has made Q upset. This could have been talking about real life or in the roleplay, but my fics are exclusively roleplay-only, so I’m going to fill in the gaps the way I think fits the story. Most likely Karl just made a joke about Q not getting any girls. If anyone can find the original VOD, please let me know! The date is around November 12th. The talk of Niki’s party is referring to Niki’s Birthday Stream**, where yes: Q and Wilbur made out. Also, the portrayal of heroin might not be entirely accurate. I’m more concerned with it aligning with the clip. I have many, many drug addicts in my family so I tried to write at least some of what I knew. Also, since this is sort of a ship fic, I must preface by saying that THIS IS ABOUT THE FICTIONAL CHARACTERS THEY ROLEPLAY, NOT THE CREATORS THEMSELVES. Not only Quackity is uncomfortable being shipped as a content creator instead of character, but I myself am uncomfortable with rpf. It feels odd writing only two members of the polycule but it's for a reason. ANOTHER THING TO NOTE, I would rather eat my left shoe then write smut for Dream SMP, there is only implied sex because in the video itself that's what they do! I don't know if this needs to be warned about, but I do mention in the fic that the sex ended short because Quackity got too rough, which is also something that happenen in the actual clip. This is in no way, shape, or form a smut ficlet!!! The sex is mentioned and mentioned only!!!! I wrote this at 2 am on a school night so it's likely riddled with errors. Enjoy!</p><p>*https://youtu.be/mEJ7l0HXyf4<br/>**https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_LnBpJLI680</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Quackity is ranting to Karl Jacobs.</p><p>It happens more times than he’d like to admit.</p><p>His walks with Karl are one of the only times he can forget that they are now on opposite sides and just talk about anything and anyone. This time the topic of the hour is Schlatt.</p><p>“We wrote out this fucking agreement and everything, but that stupid asshole just <i>had</i> to skip to the last page and ruin it all!” Quackity aims a kick at a trash can lining the Prime Path, “And I was almost willing to come back to him eventually, you know? But that <i>motherfucker</i> just had to- to- <i>ugh!</i> And even after I made up that whole thing about being pregnant to try and get some cash out of it, he showed no commitment. Well, that’s fine! I don’t fucking need him, I’m not his bitch! He burned any bridge we might have had after he tore down the White House- <i>our</i> White House! Well, guess what, baby, I’ve already been getting around! I hooked up with Wilbur at Niki’s party last week!”</p><p>“I know, I was there…” Karl mumbles bitterly.</p><p>“Oh, don’t be like that! I don’t know why you acted so possessive, I mean, what we have isn’t exclusive, you know that. You must, considering you’re literally cheating on Sapna-”</p><p>“I don’t wanna hear it!” Karl snaps.</p><p>Quackity flinches hard.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I just don’t wanna fucking talk about that, Q, <i>Jesus!</i> You know how I feel about all this…”</p><p>“What? Are you gonna give me some excuse like you ‘can’t stop’. You choose to cheat, Karl, don’t act like that’s not what it is.”</p><p>“I’m still allowed to feel what I’m feeling! He basically proclaimed his love to you-”</p><p>“He was <i>drunk</i>, Karl. Besides, you know I’m not about that ‘love’ shit.”</p><p>“I don’t know, you still seem pretty in love with Schlatt to me.”</p><p>Quackity gasps, sounding almost offended.</p><p>“Did you think we wouldn’t notice? Not like he ever will! Not like he cares! He doesn’t care about you!”</p><p>After that they walk in silence. It’s not for a while that Quackity finally breaks it.</p><p>“We’re not together, Karl. But that doesn’t mean we’re not friends. Do you really want to be my friend? Do you <i>really</i> want to be my friend?”</p><p>“Yes,” Karl notices a familiar building to their left. Maybe it’s not too late for his surprise, “I’m sorry. Come to the Walmart parking lot. I got a present for you.” Quackity follows him, running an tired hand through his hair.</p><p>“I’m just upset, man. I’m upset you’d even, like, do this shit to me, dude.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>Karl leads Quackity to the corner of the lot, where a mattress and a crafting table await.</p><p>Quackity’s face turns red, but he knows he will give in even before he opens his mouth.</p><p>---</p><p>Quackity doesn’t know what possessed him to grab Karl’s throat like that. It was going fine until then, everything was going fine. Then he felt like he wasn’t on top of Karl, but below someone meaner and he couldn’t breathe.</p><p>Whatever it was, it killed the mood.</p><p>Now somehow they were in Quackity’s basement and Karl was tapping a needle.</p><p>“What’s that?” Quackity asks, his pulse quickening.</p><p>
  <i>You know damn well what that is, motherfucker.</i>
</p><p>“Oh, this?” Karl jokes, “Only some sugar.”</p><p>Before Quackity can register what’s happening his hand is reaching out.</p><p>“You want this one? It’s okay, I have another.”</p><p>
  <i>You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, you stupid motherfucker, you shouldn’t…</i>
</p><p>“Mhm…”</p><p>---</p><p>Quackity lays beside Karl in his bed, Karl’s hand thrifting through his hair. Quackity’s beanie must have fallen off at some point. He doesn’t care. All he can think about is how amazing that rush was. He forgets how long he was sober for. He forgets he was ever sober at all.</p><p>“Karl… Look at the stars, man. Look at the stars. Do you see the stars?”</p><p>There are no stars.</p><p>No space.</p><p>They are still in Quackity’s basement.</p><p>“What’s your favorite star, Karl?”</p><p>Karl’s voice comes out slow and dazed, “I like the one… that’s… an arrow pointing at a Fanta can that’s cracked open and I’m drinkin’ out of it.”</p><p>“Karl… Um… You hear all those crickets, Karl?”</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>“Those are my braincells going off at the same time. They don’t even know what’s going on! Bro!”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s the heroin,” Karl laughs.</p><p>“T- T- That was-" his drug addled mind begins to panic, “You told me that was sugar!”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“You told me that wa- what!?”</p><p>“Um…” Karl sounds worried now.</p><p>“Karl, I’m gonna have a bad fucking high, man! What the fuck do you <i>mean</i> ‘heroin’?” he remembers nights spent puking for hours on end, everything nightmarish and warped. Nights waiting for his mama to come comfort him only to curl up on his side alone and in pain.</p><p>“Were you not having one of those <i>good</i> heroin highs?”</p><p>Quackity sits up with some difficulty and glares at him in disbelief, “No!”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“No, Karl, I got off that shit <i>years</i> ago, now you’re giving it back to me!?”</p><p>“Oh! Um…”</p><p>They sit in silence for a moment of the reality of the situation sets in. Quackity turns around, fists clenched.</p><p>“What the fuck, man!?” Quackity yells as he socks his sometimes-lover in the arm, knocking him off the bed.</p><p>“Oh, um,” Karl repeats nervously, backing up towards the stairwell.</p><p>“Oh, my God! I need- I need to get home.” Quackity says while in his own home.</p><p>“What’s gotten into you?”</p><p>Quackity pauses halfway up the stairs before promptly leaning forward and throwing up. Karl rushes to his side. Suddenly, Quackity stands up stiff as a board.</p><p>“Karl, I’m naked.”</p><p>Karl’s eyes skate Quackity’s bare torso.</p><p>“No, you’re wearing Levi’s.”</p><p>“Yeahh, but under those Levi’s are <i>nothing</i>, Karl.”</p><p>Karl nods, pointing at his own body, “Under this sweater, these pants, and the underwear underneath that…”</p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p>“I’m completely naked.”</p><p>Quackity stares at him for an uncomfortable amount of time before responding.</p><p>
  <i>“What?”</i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Week 7, Prompt 1: "Rain" - Ghostbur, Season 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Week 7, Prompt 1: "Rain"<br/>---<br/>Rating: G<br/>Fic Type: Angst, Semi-Canon Compliant (includes a lot of my personal headcanons)<br/>Characters: Ghostbur, Wilbur Soot (flashback), Fundy (flashback), Philza<br/>Setting: Phil's L'Manberg Home, Season 2<br/>Notes: Fundy is pre-transition in this flashback but I still use all the proper pronouns and Wilbur refers to him gender neutrally (as should be expected). I include a few of my fave headcanons in here so I hope you like it. This one is kinda short because I wanna try and do all three prompts this week. Wish me luck!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ghostbur remembers the rain.</p><p>He remembers when it would put out his cigarettes and soak into his shoes, but despite all this he was happy because the water helped him breathe.</p><p>He must have been happy.</p><p>He must have been.</p><p>How else would Ghostbur remember it with so much clarity?</p><p>When Fundy was little, he would take him out on rainy days to play.</p><p>
  <i>”Daddy! Daddy! Look!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I see it, sweetie-”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“No, look! There’s a birdie over there! Just like gwampa!”</i>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <i>“I can see that. Also, you really should call him ‘Phil’, and I’m ‘Wilbur’, remember? We’ve talked about this,” Wilbur suggests softly, leaning down to smooth out the fox-hybrid’s dress. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Why, da- Wilbur? Is it ‘cause you call him that?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“That’s just how he raised me, I guess. You don’t have to call him that if you don’t want to.”</i>
</p><p>Wilbur stopped aging when he was twenty-three.</p><p>It took him a while to realize it, but when he did it just made sense. </p><p>Philza stopped aging when he was thirty-two, however long ago that was, and Wilbur figured it was only a matter of time before he did too.</p><p>Phil seemed to think differently, however. When Phil found out, the man began to weep from joy. None of his other children had ever inherited his immortality.</p><p>Wilbur was born in 1977 to Phil and a woman named Samsung. When he told Tommy that, years later, he laughed and said she sounded like a Smart Refrigerator. </p><p>Wilbur only laughed and tousled the boy’s hair.</p><p>
  <i>”Did mommy wanna be called ‘Sally’ the way you want me to say ‘Wilbur’?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Naw, she was brought up a little differently than I was.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Why did gwampa Phil raise you to call him ‘Phil’?” Fundy asked, splashing in a puddle.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Well, Phil has been around for a very long time. I’m not the first child of his and I doubt I’ll be the last. They’ve all passed on now. After he realized his kids wouldn’t live forever like him, he started having them call him by his first name. I don’t exactly know why, maybe it’s because he didn’t want to get too attached. Then he had me. I was the only one of his offspring to inherit his gift, but by the time we realized it was too late and I had already adjusted to calling him that. We have some theories about why that is. Maybe your grandmother was immortal too before she ran off.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Will I live forever, Wilbur?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Fundy was an enigma. He was born only a year prior and already took the appearance of a five-year-old child, something he must have inherited from Sally. Wilbur didn’t know much about nature spirits at all. He didn’t even know why his baby came out with fox ears.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Wilbur sighed, “I don’t know, love. I hope so. I think it’d be best if you call your grandfather ‘Phil’, just in case.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Okay! So you’ll never ever leave me, right, Wilbur? You’ll never ever die?”</i>
</p><p><i>“I wouldn’t say</i> never, <i> I mean, I could still die of unnatural causes-” he looked into his child’s eyes, which had begun to water with tears, “No, Fundy. I will always be with you.”</i></p><p>
  <i>“Promise?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“As sure as this rain won’t last forever, I promise.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Okay! Let’s go find some bigger puddles!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Wilbur chuckled, “Alright.”</i>
</p><p>Ghostbur looks down at his hands.</p><p>The blue in his hands has stained his fingers, gathering in a small puddle on the wet pavement at his hovering feet.</p><p>“What are you looking at, mate?”</p><p>“Oh! Hi, Phil!”</p><p>“You’ve been standing at my doorstep looking at the rain for a while now. I was getting worried you’d step out and burn yourself. You wanna come back inside?”</p><p>“In a minute, dad.”</p><p>This takes Phil back a bit.</p><p>“You’ve never really… called me dad before.”</p><p>“Well, it’s not like I’m going anywhere anymore, now am I?”</p><p>Phil can’t find the right thing to say, so he doesn’t say anything at all.</p><p>“Goodbye, son,” he says, simply, withdrawing back into the house.</p><p>“Goodbye.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Week 7, Prompt 2: "Dancing" - Bench Trio, Season 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Week 7, Prompt 2: "Dancing"<br/>---<br/>Rating: G<br/>Fic Type: Fluff, Canon Compliant<br/>Characters: Tubbo/Ranboo or Tubbo &amp; Ranboo, Ranboo &amp; Tommy, Tommy &amp; Tubbo, Jack Manifold, Captain Puffy, Foolish<br/>Setting: Snowchester, Season 3 (some time between 4/28/21 when this was written and when Tommy's plan to break into the prison happens)<br/>Notes: Tubbo and Ranboo can be interpreted however you want, romantic or qpr. Their relationships with Tommy however are both completely platonic.</p><p>Warnings: Underage drinking, panic attack</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><i>This isn’t a festival,</i> Tubbo tells himself, <i>It’s a party. Jack told him it was when he had the idea. A big party. With music and games and the entirety of Snowchester.</i></p><p>Foolish is in the middle of the dance floor, doing his famous “Shift Dance” while Jack and Charlie cheer him on. Puffy sits reserved at a table next to the makeshift dance floor, trying to keep a composed smile at her son’s antics, but her eyes dart warily.</p><p>When Tubbo had told her about this get together, she nearly jumped out of her skin, shaking her head frantically.</p><p>
  <i>”No parties!”</i>
</p><p>Tubbo only convinced her by saying it would be outside, only steps away from her front porch. </p><p>She hadn’t touched any of the food.</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Tubbo catches Tommy spiking the hot cider with something. It surprises him slightly that he just doesn’t care. In fact, it kinda makes him want to drink some more.</p><p>An arm snakes around his waist and Tubbo’s whole body freezes.</p><p>“It’s just me, honey.” Ranboo presses a kiss to his cheek, “Care for a dance?”</p><p>Tubbo calms down instantly. He quirks an eyebrow at the question.</p><p>“You really wanna steal Foolish’s thunder like that? Wow, dude, not cool.”</p><p>“He’ll live. Don’t you wanna show them their president has moves?”</p><p>“I’m not their president, it’s a commune.” Tubbo reminds him with a sigh.</p><p>“You know what I mean, Tubbo. So, what do you say?”</p><p>Tubbo hesitates, turning around to face his husband as he holds him.</p><p>“They’re not ready for my Gangnam Style.”</p><p>There’s a crash to their right as a now-drunk Tommy knocks a chair to the ground in an attempt to reach the couple.</p><p>“Why are you dickheads so <i>gross?</i>” he belches, “Pardon.”</p><p>“Hello to you too, Tommy.” Ranboo greets him anyways.</p><p>“What are your intentions with my best friend, mister?” he interrogates him.</p><p>“The same intentions I always have with him, Tommy. I was just asking my <i>husband</i> for a dance.”</p><p>“And I was just politely declining.” Tubbo lets go of Ranboo and picks up the chair Tommy knocked over to take a seat.</p><p>“As you should!” Tommy gives Ranboo a shit-eating grin, “His legs are so long he might step on you.”</p><p>Ranboo has to hold himself back from telling Tommy he’ll step on him instead. Tommy is going through, quite frankly, <i>some shit.</i> Ranboo doesn’t tend to curse much, but he can’t find a word that’s more fitting, or maybe he just can’t find the energy to.</p><p>Instead, he walks past Tommy crouches down next to Tubbo’s chair, a hand on his partner’s knee. He knows that at any other party Tubbo would be the one dragging <i>him</i> onto the dance floor.</p><p>“What’s up, love? Is something wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry about me. I’m just in one of my moods,” Tubbo leans close to whisper in Ranboo’s ear, “Why don’t you and Tommy get over there and give me a show.”</p><p>Tommy can’t make out what he says, his attention instead drawn to the bright lantern lights strung over the venue. Then his hand is on his wrist and everything inside him jolts like an electric shock.</p><p>
  <i>Dream is pulling him along, beginning to bruise his already blemished skin.</i>
</p><p>Things get all dark and floaty inside and he freaks out.</p><p>“Tommy!?” Dre- Tubbo shouts.</p><p>“Woah, Tommy! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I forgot! I won’t grab you like that again!”</p><p>Things begin to solidify and sharpen again. Tommy looks up at Ranboo, confused.</p><p>“Get off me, you idiot, I’m fine! You startled me, that’s all.”</p><p>“You slapped him in the face, Tommy.” Tubbo prompts.</p><p>“And I’ll do it again, bitch!”</p><p>“You know how you could make it up to me?”</p><p>Tommy scoffs at Tubbo, but he can still feel something guilty rumble in his gut.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Dancing.”</p><p>“With you?”</p><p>“With Ranboo.”</p><p>“I’m not drunk enough for this…” but puts his hand in Ranboo’s anyways.</p><p>Tubbo claps in excitement, “Woo hoo!”</p><p>The music began to pick up as the two boys reached the floor.</p><p>Of course it’s a tango.</p><p>At first they move hesitantly, swaying side to side and throwing anxious glances back to Tubbo.</p><p>“Go on!” he shouts from the sidelines.</p><p>“You know what?” Tommy mutters, grabbing the taller teen’s shoulder and pulling him closer, “Let’s fucking dance.”</p><p>What happens next makes the rest of the gathering erupt into laughter as the two, very much inexperienced, dancers try to one-up each other. They narrowly avoid each other's toes as their pace increases.</p><p>“Don’t you dare fucking dip me.”</p><p>Ranboo dips him.</p><p>“I hate you.”</p><p>“I’m not gonna drop you!” Ranboo teases, although he was kinda considering it.</p><p>“May I cut in?”</p><p>They turn around, and Ranboo’s gone, getting swept away by Tubbo.</p><p>“Real classy, Tubbo!” he looks for the nearest party guest, “I’ll just dance with... <i>Jack</i> instead!”</p><p><i>”What!?”</i> Jack shouts in protest.</p><p>And then they’re dancing too.</p><p>“You think Tommy’s gonna be okay over there?” Ranboo wonders, “Jack looks like he’s about to explode.”</p><p>“He can have you back after I get a dip, too.”</p><p>“Jealous, much?”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>After Jack finally gets fed up and pushes Tommy away, Tubbo is there to catch him and twirl him up right again.</p><p>They dance until the song ends.</p><p>By the end of the night all three of them are collapsing into chairs.</p><p>Tommy stumbles to a berry bush and empties his gut, the alcohol disagreeing with all the spinning.</p><p>Ranboo dutifully gets up to hold his hair back.</p><p>It’s pretty disgusting.</p><p>But a smile never leaves Tubbo’s face.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Week 7, Prompt 3: "Growth" - Puffy & Tommy, Season 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Week 7, Prompt 3: "Growth"<br/>---<br/>Rating: T (could technically be G, but I don't think little kids should read this)<br/>Fic Type: Dark Angst, Canon Compliant<br/>Characters: Tommy &amp; Puffy<br/>Setting: Therapuffy Office, Season 3 (after Wilbur's revival)<br/>Notes: How I went from happily cuddling with my best friend while watching TV to writing this the next day is a mystery to me. Maybe the fact I finally read Passerine this morning had something to do with it. I'm not one for AU's, but boy, did that hurt. I'm in the car on the way to visit my  cousins in Sacramento rn lmao. I can't remember the last time I wrote a fic in a car. </p><p>Warnings: Trauma, Suicidal Ideation, Mentions of Underage Drug Use and Self-Harm, Dissociation<br/>I apologize for this ficlet's open ending being kinda pessimistic. This fic has this hopeless vibe to it and I know that could be triggering to some, so be careful.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are you ready to talk about what happened yet, Tommy?”</p><p>The question makes Tommy want to laugh until his lungs give out, but instead he simply stares at Puffy with an amused expression.</p><p>“I shouldn’t even have to explain to you how many things that question could be referring to.”</p><p>Puffy can’t say anything to argue this. How could she? Not when it is so irreversibly true.</p><p>“The most, uh, recent thing, Tommy. With Ghostbur… in the prison”</p><p>There was a time when Puffy would have danced around certain topics, but over these months she’s discovered that the only thing that will get them anywhere is being direct, asking him if he’s willing to open up, and then waiting for him to talk on his own.</p><p>It’s hard being a therapist when one of your client’s triggers are being asked about his trauma.</p><p>It’s also hard being a therapist when you:</p><p>1. Don’t have an official license</p><p>2. Used to be friends with your client’s abuser</p><p>3. Just watched your son get murdered in front of you</p><p>But there’s nobody else and Tommy wouldn’t make it otherwise.</p><p>So this is just how things have to be.</p><p>“I’m gonna be straight with you, Captain, I can’t even begin to process anything a-anymore,” Tommy’s voice broke and entered that wobbly version of itself where words fail to describe what he wants to get across, “Since p-prison,” he flaps his hands around in front of his face (to Puffy, rapid hand movements meant ‘a lot’), “and then Tubbo and Ranboo,” he twines his fingers together, “and H-Henry and then I went back in there and I saw- I saw him- and he- and then Sam said- Sam said- he made me wanna- and then I got out and <i>he</i> he was there-”</p><p>Tommy is breathing rapidly now and Puffy has to calm him down.</p><p>Puffy wants to kill the world sometimes.</p><p>She wants to kill it dead.</p><p>Every time she starts to make progress with Tommy he comes back the next week on the brink of passing out at the thought of whatever new trauma happened in between then and now. So weekly meetings became biweekly became bidiurnal.</p><p>One time Puffy couldn’t take it anymore and begged Tommy to stay with her in Snowchester on her hands and knees, begging to let her take him in and keep him safe.</p><p>The answer is always a resounding <i>”No”</i> and it makes Puffy want to scream and cry in frustration, but she can’t do anything.</p><p>She can never do anything.</p><p>“I had a thought the other day,” he says through tears, and that’s never something Puffy expects to be good, and of course it isn’t, “With Wilbur gone, with Wilbur here, would that <i>place</i> be more bearable? I-I had just stopped by my- Jack’s hotel and saw that Sam took Sam Nook away and it sent me into that place I go sometimes and I heard… I heard…”</p><p>
  <i>Great.</i>
</p><p>The one thing Puffy thought she didn’t have to worry about anymore.</p><p>She tells herself to stop thinking selfishly and try to speak.</p><p>“Hey, Toms, hey, don’t think like that, please. Remember what we said about going down that road?”</p><p>“Jack told me, Sam told me, Dream told me, <i>I told myself</i> I shouldn’t be alive. I wanna listen, I do. I’ve been so scared, ‘cause like, Living is pain, death is agony, and I can’t even begin on what I see when I sleep. I try drugs, and meditation, and <i>knives</i> but nowhere I go is somewhere I like! I just don’t wanna be here anymore!”</p><p>
  “Tomm-”
</p><p>
“And every day just gets <i>harder</i>, Puffy, and I want to say our meetings are helping, but I can’t help but feel like it’s too late for me. I can name the number of people who give a damn about me on one hand, Puffy, one hand! And even then I’m not so sure… Now Wilbur’s here and my brain’s stopped reminding me of what awaits every time a darker part of it tells me to kill myself-” he cuts off abruptly, staring off into the distance.
</p><p>
  “Tommy?”
</p><p>
  Tommy’s eyes have that look they tend to have and she can tell he’s gone.
</p><p>
  “Tommy, <i>please!</i>” she pleads, but he’s still in his own head and Puffy can’t prevent the tears that leave her eyes in droves, “I don’t know what to do!” she sobs.
</p><p>
  Tommy doesn’t say a word.
</p><p>
  “I don’t know how to help you!” she admits.
</p><p>
  And maybe that’s the worst part of all of this.
</p><p>
  He grows.
</p><p>
  He gets cut down.
</p><p>
  She tries her best to water him again.
</p><p>
  Again, and again, and again.
</p><p>
  Tommy doesn’t speak again for the rest of the day and Puffy lets him sleep right there in the clinic.
</p><p>
  He doesn’t start moving again until early morning, when he apologizes, cheeks flush with embarrassment, and leaves.
</p><p>
  Puffy grimly wonders if she’ll ever see him again.
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Week 8, Prompt 1: "Flowers" - Allium Duo, Season 2 and 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Week 8, Prompt 1: "Flowers"<br/>---<br/>Rating: G<br/>Fic Type: Angst, Loosely Canon Compliant<br/>Characters: Tommy &amp; Ranboo, Tommy &amp; Dream<br/>Setting: Exile, Season 2 and the Prime Path, Season 3<br/>Notes: I got all my flower info from the internet. I'm writing this as I show MPGIS to my dad. If you know, you know.<br/>Warnings: Child Abuse</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy’s mind surges with something white hot as he lets the allium burn.</p><p>It isn’t hate.</p><p>But Tommy sure wishes it was.</p><p>That would make everything so much easier.</p><p>---</p><p>One day during Tommy’s most recent exile, he awoke (after climbing out of the sea) to not only a letter from Ranboo but a beautiful bouquet of flowers. </p><p>A clover here (meaning “think of me”), a few sprigs of Arborvitae there (meaning “unchanging friendship”), with a good few wallflowers (meaning “faithfulness in adversity") tossed in the mix.</p><p>And a single Rhododendron, hiding in the center of the arrangement.</p><p>Meaning “danger, beware”.</p><p>As much as he hates to admit it, Tommy loves flowers. When he was thirteen he studied their meanings religiously, planning which ones to give to which friend or which crush.</p><p>Tubbo’s favorite flower is Pink Tulips. Not because of any greater meaning, but because they simply look nice. Tubbo likes pink and Tubbo likes tulips. It’s as easy as that.</p><p>Tommy doesn’t have a favorite flower. Too many mean too much to him. </p><p>He learned pretty early on to keep this interest to himself. Not only this, but sewing too. Flowers had no place in a big man’s world. So it became his secret.</p><p>When Ranboo offered Tommy that allium what felt like ages ago, Tommy had wondered silently to himself if he, too, knew what it meant.</p><p>This bouquet made Tommy think he must have, for how could someone not know and make something this purposeful.</p><p>He began to wonder if Ranboo had figured out his secret.</p><p>A note came with the bouquet:</p><p>
  <i>”T, Maybe these will brighten up the place. I hope you-know-who will let you keep them. Keep hanging in there! - R”</i>
</p><p>Tommy wanted to cry, but he’d done enough of that the previous night.</p><p>Dream had broken his wrist when he caught him in the water so late. He must have thought he was trying to swim away.</p><p>Or drown himself.</p><p>Same difference to Dream.</p><p>Any escape would be a grave sin in his eyes.</p><p>Tommy had begged and screamed as he was dragged onto shore by his scalp. His bony arm was encased in two much stronger hands as he was “taught a lesson” once more.</p><p>Then Dream had pulled his mask aside and gently kissed his eyelids dry, like a mother would her child, handing Tommy a potion of healing to repair the fracture he had caused.</p><p>The high from the potion left him dazed and euphoric and pliable in the man’s arms as he promised all this punishment was for his own good.</p><p>There was a time where Tommy would call him a liar.</p><p>Once.</p><p>Tommy still felt the traumatic event in his bones when he neatly folded Ranboo’s note and opened the attached letter.</p><p>Each letter from Ranboo shared a similar format. He starts with a few questions, then gives some updates, then ends with a joke.</p><p>This one’s no different than usual.</p><p>Everyone’s doing well (big shocker there) and they all miss him very much (doubtful). The joke is corny as ever, but he can’t help but crack a smile.<br/>
He reaches for the quill pen, flips a page, and writes.</p><p>
  <i>"HIII Ranboo. Thinggs have been ALLLL happy smiles here LmFAo. drem broke m y arm last nite. the stuppid bastard. Its all good tho, he healed it right up and i got very high on las drugas and saw the aifeel tower. Dont know why you gave me flwers tho i am not a little pussy bitch like dream. You should give flowers to dream and then put poison in them so he would die that would be hilarious. Or maybe it would make him smell better because he was very close to me last night and he didn ot smell good he smelled like shit and piss. Does your home smell like piss, ranboo? Your lonely <s>friend</s> acquaintance, Tommy”</i>
</p><p>He put the letter back in the chest and picked up the bouquet gently. As much as he wants them in his tent, he knows Dream would probably ruin them if he saw them.</p><p>Maybe they’d look nice in Ghostbur’s place?</p><p>He walked to the house of stripped logs, flowers cradled on his arm like a baby. He made sure to bring the empty glass bottle from last night’s potion. It made a doable flower pot.</p><p>The part of his brain that hadn’t lost all its light suggested sending a flower or two back. He ignored it at the time.</p><p>Maybe in hindsight he should have done it.</p><p>Maybe he wouldn’t have stolen his best friend now.</p><p>---</p><p>After leaving the young couple, the allium still burning on the sidewalk, Tommy picks at one of the flowers adorning his house.</p><p>A Marigold.</p><p>Despair.</p><p>Grief.</p><p>Jealousy.</p><p>Maybe he should give it to Ranboo.</p><p>But then again, he’s much too tired.</p>
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